In the Long Run

Another graduation, another “proud mother” moment. Big Guy graduated from high school yesterday, in a traditional, and typical ceremony held in the filled-to-capacity school gym. The speakers delivered the usual accolades, advice and encouragement. Once they were done, in a slightly rebellious or adventurous spirit, the students raucously batted about beach balls, and even a 5-foot blow-up blue whale, as the graduates began receiving their diplomas.

Big Guy was one of 14 students who wore a gold medallion around their necks, in addition to their gold sashes, and Honor Society cords. When he had brought home the medallion as part of his graduation garb, I had asked him what it was. “I’m supposed to wear that because I’m a Wyoming State Scholar.” That sounded impressive, so I asked what he had done to qualify for the award. He didn’t know.

So I did a little investigative work, and learned all about the State Scholar Initiative. Our state is one of twenty-four states implementing the program, which encourages high school students to better prepare themselves for success in post-secondary education and careers by completing a rigorous course of study.

The State Scholars curriculum – which is patterned after the recommendations of the National Commission on Excellence in Education – recommends four years of English, three of math, three of lab science, three and a half of social studies, and two of a language other than English.

Big Guy had not set out to achieve this award, but had taken qualifying classes because of interest, ability, and a desire to prepare for college. I suppose it is to his credit that he fulfilled the requirements because of personal ambition rather than because he knew about or coveted the award. In any case, no doubt his college coursework will be enhanced because of his high school preparation.

Big Guy, congratulations on your graduation. You are a gentleman and a scholar.

Posted by Cyppy at 9:08 PM  6 comments

My Key Limey received a bill from the hospital the other day, informing him that his insurance company had been billed for services rendered on May 7, 2007. As he had not been even near the hospital that day, we were more than a little disconcerted see that the mysterious services amounted to $10,987.56. The next day KL cleared up the obvious error with the hospital. But that’s not the first time he’s suffered a case of mistaken identity.

Many years ago in college, he once received a C in a class that we took together, and for which I received an A. Even in my smug sympathy, I felt something was just not quite right. We’d received high marks on a project we’d done together which was half the grade, and he had done well on other assignments. He contacted the teacher for further explanation, and they discovered that KL’s grade had been transposed with another student who had the exact same name—first, middle, and last.

His common name commonly produces wrong number phone calls. “Are you the [Key Limey] who sells tropical fish?” “Is this the residence of [Key Limey] from Wichita?” “I’m looking for the [Key Limey] who collects rare coins.” When it is a legitimate caller looking for the [Key Limey] who is a lawyer, I evaluate the level of animosity in the voice, and consider prevaricating (“lying” sounds so harsh) that the caller has a wrong number.

But the funniest, and yet possibly the most serious, case of mistaken identity, is with a fellow named Jasper with the same last name. Apparently Jasper, who owes thousands of dollars in back child support in California, lives right here at our address, or at least he has told someone that he does. We have received quite a few demands for payment from the sate of California for his four children. My Key Limey made some calls to sort that one out as well. Since then, we still receive the occasional credit card offer addressed to Jasper. Recently we received some spam email from one Jasper Same-Last-Name, as follows:

Our company has confirmed your draft and have the specific proposals relative to your needs.

Take assistance of our proposition now, before it is unavailable.

Goodbye,
Jasper [Same-Last-Name]

I’m sure you all are familiar with that type of spam. I thought it was a humorous coincidence that it came to us from someone with the same name (and probably contrived, at that) as our deadbeat dad Jasper. I guess he’s selling insurance now.

Fortunately my Key Limey hasn’t been the tragic victim of true identity theft. These incidents have been minor inconveniences. Still, as Kermit says, “It’s not easy being green.” Or Smith, or Jones, or Wilson.

Posted by Cyppy at 4:15 PM  1 comments

My menfolk were duly impressed with this visiting dignitary's speech. My son, the new Juris Doctor-New Dad, was extremely jealous of his brother's and father's rare opportunity to hear the remarks.

Meanwhile, I was teaching a Pilates class. Maybe someday I'll develop political inclinations.

Posted by Cyppy at 9:01 PM  7 comments

My son, the new dad, has a new title—Juris Doctor. It has been a long, and eventful three years since he began law school, but three days ago he received the law diploma that marks the beginning of a new career.

With great ceremony, the 125 graduates formally paraded into the theatre to the strains of Pomp and Circumstance played by an elegant string trio. We eagerly looked for our Juris Doctor, decked out in a somber black robe, emblazoned with red Ute stripes (you would have loved it, DeDee), and the obligatory doctorate hood, lined with rich purple velvet. And suddenly he appeared in the aisle. He was readily distinguishable, because he wore no cap. I wondered if this was some sort of brazen iconoclastic gesture to mock the ceremonial and stuffy nature of the graduation exercises, but later he vigorously asserted that his scalp was merely itchy, so he removed the aggravating mortarboard.

There were several awards and short speeches, and a keynote address by a South African judge who basically lambasted America’s foreign policy, after which the audience clapped. At that point, maybe the law school’s moot court participants should have been invited on stage for a rebuttal. Quite possibly, though, most of us were too interested in the next order of business, the confirmation of degrees, to really give Judge Goldstone’s diatribe a second thought.

We didn’t have to wait long. There was our Juris Doctor-New Dad, complete with cap, shaking the Law School dean’s hand while clutching the hard-earned diploma, and smiling for the camera. I resisted the urge to cheer wildly, because I was holding his sleeping daughter, The Little Princess, in my lap. But I was very proud.

Twenty-six years ago, my Key Limey graduated from law school when this son was about a year older than his daughter is now. It is a legal circle that has come full circle.

Posted by Cyppy at 6:34 PM  1 comments

My husband likes to watch cooking shows. I will catch him quite often staring adoringly at Julia Child reruns as she whips up an ostrich egg omelette souffl'ee or some such delicacy. He also likes Lidia's Italian-American Kitchen, Paula Deen Down-Home Southern Cooking, and Yan Can Cook. But a true cooking show connoisseur, he also has dislikes, and disdains BBQ with Bobby Flay and Emeril Live (BAM!)

Despite all of his culinary education, and my lack thereof, I prepare most of the meals for the family. Still, there are a couple of recipes my husband makes occasionally that I cheerfully encourage and gladly consume.

One of these is key lime pie. I don’t know what master chef I have to thank for my husband’s enthusiasm for preparing this dessert, but I am grateful. In the last two or three months, he has probably made about 6 fresh, and very delicious, key lime pies.

Incredibly, the man grows his own limes! Actually, he harvests only seven or eight limes a year from his small lime tree, so he does have to supplement with store produce. He meticulously squeezes the juice and grates the peel. He lovingly mixes all the ingredients, bakes and cools the delectable dessert. We savor each blissful bite.

This last time he proudly displayed his latest masterpiece complete with meringue topping. “I just learned how easy it was to do that on Paula Deen’s show!” he beamed with pride. I’m perfectly content with my Key Limey’s little hobby of making pie, as it is satisfying for both of us. He takes pleasure in preparing it, and I take pleasure in partaking of it.

Posted by Cyppy at 7:11 AM  4 comments